


Just a Taste

by childofdrought



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Food Porn, I BLAME THE CHAT, I REALLY BLAME THE CHAT, M/M, No shame, Other, Whale Oil as Whale Spunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofdrought/pseuds/childofdrought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Food Porn. No. Seriously. A bunch of Food Porn ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Serkonan Sausage

**Author's Note:**

> The first one was orginally posted as an anon askbox fic, the rest I can shamelessly blame on the dishonored Mibbit chat.

Corvo paused, nose catching a faint scent upon the weak wind that wound its way through the sewer tunnels. 

Taking a deeper breath he felt his mouth begin to salivate despite the rot that surrounded him. Finding new strength in the tantalizing aroma Corvo slowly wound his way around the curve in tunnel to the blessed sight of campfire light. 

Next to the flickering flames he found his goal, a thick glistening link of Serkonan Blood Sausage. He huffed out a wounded sound, throat still too strained from the screaming of the torture chamber to produce more. After half a year of subsisting on little more than the occasional piece of bread to find this piece of home was sitting, unattended and warm was a blessing he could not fathom. 

Futilely wiping grim stained hands on an even dirtier coat Corvo reached out, hands hesitant as if this kindness would disappear from in front of this eyes the moment he touched it, and grasped the slick meat. Moaning slightly he slid the spicy sausage straight into his mouth, content to merely suckle on its juices for the moment. 

Tongue flicking at the flesh in his mouth he sank to the ground determined to enjoy his first moment of pleasure in months for now, escaping could wait.


	2. The Outsiders Bacon

He so rarely let himself have mortal treats, knowing that the longer he held out the better it would be. But ah, it had been so long since he had indulged himself in this particular delicacy, one slice could surely not hurt.

The aroma of the freshly roasted bacon, glazed in just a hint of honey wafted through the void like bioluminescent lure, guiding in the prey. Oh but how happy he was to follow it to its trap.

He could taste it now, the crunch of the flesh between his borrowed teeth, the juices of it just gliding down the throat to become sweetly part of his shadowy self. What a glorious union he could imagine.

Crunch, Crunch. He halted, his little bubble of pleasure popping at such a rude intrusion. Sharp, endless eyes snapped towards the travesty before him.

“Corvo."

The mortal in question, who had intruded on his realm, without his permission, looked up from where he had sat savouring the Outsider’s anticipated delicacy

“ _What are you doing_ ”


	3. Chocolate Cookies

Of all the things that _fascinated_ the Outsider about Corvo it was how the simplest things could motivate him. Treat him kindly, never separate him from Emily and you would have his sword for life. Or at least the where the simple motivations that almost anyone could see. No the one that caught the Outsider’s eye was Corvo’s weakness for _cookies_.

Many said that it was her radiance, her gentle smile, or his already unwavering loyalty to the empire that had made Corvo love Jessamine so. What none knew, except for the two themselves and him was that is heart had been caught by one simple act.

The young Empress had been taking her tea out in the garden when Corvo, still just one prospective out of many, caught her eye with his lurking and quite unsubtle staring at her meal. Beckoning him over she had, in an act of innocence only one so young could perform held up her treat for that afternoon, a rare and indulgent chocolate filled cookies, the ingredients so rare to find in dreary Gristol.

Eating from her glove covered hand, the silk being stained by the melting indulgence, his careful bites of that one biscuit had been where it had all started.

In a much more wicked reflection of that simple act the Outsider stood over Corvo’s bed, chocolate oozing never ending down his hand into the waiting man’s mouth. Yes, this weakness was defiantly worth more exploration.


	4. Seaweed

They snaked through the void on currents unseen, flotsam that would never find a shore. He hummed, delighted, and with long fingers plucked up the strings, still soaked through from their old home.

Running the smooth strands through his hands, untangling them, he held the end up to his lips and slowly suckled on it.

Sighing in delight at the novelty of mortal sensation he tilted his head back and let the tendril slide down his throat, unimpeded by normal human reflexes. The tickling of it as it swayed on the unseen tide reminded him curiously of the tentacles of his oceanic brethren, twitching in their mating dance.

He swallowed.


	5. Whale Spunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok this needs explanation. In the chat someone proposed that whale oil was actually whale spunk and then someone else mentioned Corvo chucking it at people and then it escalated in Corvo being covered in it and THIS FORMED.

Corvo's breath hissed out sharply from beneath the mask, heart beating rapidly as he calmed himself from his furious slaughter of the weepers of that had taken up residency in the basement of Greaves Oil Refinery. Tiredly dragging himself over to the box of his gear that he'd fought so hard to get back to his attention wavered from his surroundings, thinking them clear.

  

It was only because of this he did not notice the leaky pipe above until he felt a distinct _plop_ of the droplet onto his hood. He foolishly froze, remembering all the warnings of how noxious and volatile the liquid was, and in doing so gave it the time to slip down the fabric and under his mask, blazing a warm tingling trail down his face causing him to gasp.

 _That_ was his second mistake.

With his mouth open the single drop of whale oil fell unimpeded down and onto the tip of his tongue, causing Corvo's knees to buckle as it did.

On his hands and knees, panting, Corvo's heart beat sped up again as he wondered what on earth that had been.

Light had burst behind his eyes, like starbursts across the sky, and even now everything seemed to glitter and sparkle.

He smacked his lips, a slow dawning look of horror as the taste it had left in his mouth slowly registered.

It- It was salty. A _distinct_ type of salty.

Climbing to his wobbling knees Corvo left, trying not to look at the glowing puddles that oozed across the floor as he did so or the wet patch that spread uncomfortably in his britches.

 

And if the next he emptied a tank out of one of Sokolovs many devises he shuddered? Well, you could hardly blame him knowing what he knew.


	6. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MINOR KNIFE OF DUNWALL SPOILERS BEWARE.
> 
> This is set in the Legal Distract where there are two very adorable guards who patrol one of the balconies. In my particular run through it glitches so that they just walked pass the passed out body of the other on the bed without comment. This led to conclusions.

Bertram leaned against the balcony's railing, gazing at all the boarded up doors of a once bustling apartment complex.

"Can this city get any worse?" he muttered to himself, thoughts turning to the dark things he had seen in his patrols that had made those evictions necessary.

"Indeed."

Startling slightly, not having heard the footsteps of his partner come up behind him, he started to turn only to be stopped by Waite's warm palm resting on his shoulder.

Sighing, he leaned back into a warm embrace as the hand slid down his arm to wrap around his waist.

"But," his partner continued, "everything that goes down has to come back up."

He snorted, "I'm pretty sure it's meant to be the other way around Mr. Optimist. You must be going senile to go with all that white hair."

"Oi!" the hand that had been slowly caressing his hip was pulled back for a sharp slap, "I thought we promised not to bring me hair into arguments again. S'not like yours is much better off, it's half gray as well."

"Peppered hair is distinguished you sod. Makes all the lower guards stand to attention whilst yours just makes them wonder what an old man is doing as an active officer instead of just pushing forms about."

"Well if that's what you really think then maybe I won't give you this and keep it for myself after all."

"Give me wha-?" It was then that Waite thrust forward what his other hand had been holding, one of the old beaten up tea cups of the office but in it...

"You didn't. This stuff is worth a month of elixir you madman!" Bertram marveled as he beheld the steaming hot, dark, rich, bitter brew within. Half of him craved to immediately grab the cup and start sipping; knowing from back before the blockade made all supplies thins the rare delight of this particular roasted berry. However the much larger part of him was horrified at such extravagance.

Waite dropped a kiss on his shoulder in comfort, "I didn't. There was a sack of it in the last house we cleared, I got to keep just enough for a pot."

"Still could have sold it on you fool," his words where weak now though as he gave in, hands coming to curl around the cup with Waite's as he brought it closer to just smell.

"Could have, but then I thought you could use the energy."

"Oi!" this time it was Bertram that reached back to whack at his partners hip.

Waite just laughed and let him take full possession of the cup before turning to go actually do his job and check the permitter.

Through the window a roof tile clinked.


	7. SURPRISE

Daud flicks his tongue forward, plunging into the depths of the hole before him. 

Before him Billie makes a startled sound, causing him to pull back and stare at her unmasked eyes in question, mouth sticky with white residue.

"What?" he rumbled.

"Nothing sir," he squints at her questioning as she seems a little breathless.

"Just. Enjoy your donut sir."

Her footsteps echo his office as he goes back to teasing the hole before him for it's delicious icing treat.


	8. Coffee (Alternate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the High Chaos alternative to the earlier ficlet. Warning for TKoD spoilers and ANGSSSSSST.

Monty tapped his fingers against the mug in his hand, wondering if he'd done the right thing. Looking at the broad tense shoulders of the man he had considered a brother since they both joined the Watch he liked to think so.

Feet clunking heavily on the balcony's floor he watched as Bertrams shoulders tensed further before drooping as the man turned away from his brooding sentry of the deserted district.

"Bert. I found something that Wai-" he flinched, mouth clicking closed abruptly at the angry eyes that fell upon him. Bertram looked so haggard these days, eyes always red, shadows growing under them and pallor so shallow that some of the lower guard boys whispered he'd caught the plague.

Mentioning Waite around him did nothing to help his complexion or demeanor but Monty knew he had to do this, "He, he would have wanted you to have this, he planned to give it to you soon I think, he just waited a bit too lo-"

Monty cut himself off knowing his rambling was going into dangerous territory. He coughed, uncomfortable, "Anyway, have it. You need it."

He shoved the still steaming cup into unresisting hands, taking a step back as the smell of what was in it finally registered with his friend.

The emotions that flashed over Bertram's face, rage that burned hotter than anything he'd seen out of the man in months followed by a kind of deep despair and grief that made Monty's breathe catch to see it.

"That- That _bastard_." Bertram finally spoke up, voice crackling both from the emotion and from the disuse of the past weeks.

"This would have bought enough to save him- to keep him stocked in elixir for months! Why did he keep it! He shouldn't, he should-" Bertram trailed off panting from how breathless his shouting had left him.

Monty hesitated at the doorway between the room and the balcony, alarmed by how Bertrams teeth clenched tighter and tighter and by the Outsider was that tears gathering at his eyes. No, no, no this had NOT been a good idea after all.

"It'll be alright man, it'll be alrigh-" there was a near silent fwoop and Monty knew no more.

A second later, neither did Bertram. Heavy boots thumped into the room as Daud rifled through the papers, uncaring of the two guards he had just ended. Perhaps it was a kindness in the end, the lower boys had been right.

Upon the balcony floor lay shattered, undrunk, the precious coffee Waite had raided a weepers den getting, dooming himself. 


	9. Chocolate Lava Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> secrettemplars requested Callista/Cecelia with Chocolate Lava Cake as the food for the anniversary of dishonored release. It was er significantly less porny and less food focused than planned.

"I'm glad you survived, I didn't think any of us where going to get out of there at the end."

Callista fork fell to the floor with a clatter, drawing an irate stare from one of the noble couples milling near her. Cheeks burning she bent to pick it up when a slender hand beat her too it, drawing her eyes to the speaker that had startled her in the first place.

"I- Cecelia?" her voice was incredulous but pleased. Here, at the celebratory feast of Young Empress Emily's crowning was the last place she'd expected to see the Loyalist servant.

The woman in question flushed, fiddling with the implement in her hand. "It's nice of you to remember my name ma'am."

Outwardly Callista frowned but inside she felt a flush of guilt, she only remembered because of Corvo's own inquires on whether Cecelia had turned up again. Until those questions Callista had not quite realised Cecelia had not been shot with the other servants. Still she did not need to _acknowledge_ such awkwardness.

"I could not forget it, not the name of someone so important."

She was in a way important, every member of that ill-fated group had been and Callista was not above stretching the truth a tad.

Cecelia looked genuinely charmed and surprised at her comment, the small smile making the usually plain lady seem for a moment something much more radiant.

Callista blinked and would later blame that little look for why she did not react to stop the other lady from reaching out a stealing a small bite of her cake.

She would also blame the way the molten trail of chocolate had dribbled down Cecelia's lips, pure indulgent temptation, for the way she would later take those lips, hunting for the long faded taste.

Perhaps saying Cecelia was important was not _too_ much of a lie when it came to her.


	10. Glacé Cherries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Also shhh yes I know cherries don't exclusively come in pairs but SYMBOLISM)

Soft flesh was worried delicately between his teeth, tongue flicking to taste the sweet offering. A decadent moan echoed across the room as the flavour exploded across his mouth.

By the fireplace he could hear his brothers’ uncomfortable shifting and bit down on the cherry he had been indecently assaulting, making sure to give an extra loud satisfied moan.

“Will you stop that!” Custis finally snapped out, patience brought to its edge over his brothers shenanigans.

Morgan just smiled and fished another glacé cherry from the jar, licking the juices that ran everywhere from his fingers in a sinful display. Hearing his twins angered huff he finally took pity on him, rising from his seat to stalk towards him.

“Do you know why I love cherries brother?” 

Custis was looking at him warily, he knew him well enough to know the trap, “It is because they come in pairs, connected by the most delicate stem, only for people to,” he surged forward shoving the cherry between his brothers lips, “cruelly tear them apart.”

The thin scar on his index finger, matched perfectly by his brother, scrapped against Custis’s teeth as Morgan pulled his fingers back out his brother mouth.  
“It sounds familiar doesn’t it? The idea… just hits close to my heart.”

There was a thread of saliva left on his fingers and instead of doing the sensible thing and wiping it away Morgan licked it, savoring the phantom sweetness.  
Custis simply watched with wide, wide eyes – the taste of cherry melting on his tongue.


End file.
